


Plan A

by misura



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29268204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Ariadne sets out to make a living as an architect and somehow, this involves hanging out with Eames and Arthur and also a fair amount of kissing.
Relationships: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Plan A

Ariadne gets two calls in 24 hours: one from some complete stranger who wants her for a job, because he's heard she's very good, and the other one, maybe eight hours later, from Arthur.

"Smith offer you a job?" is, apparently, Arthur's idea of 'hello, it's been a while' (three months, two weeks and three days, but who's counting?).

"I don't think that was his real name," Ariadne says, by way of saying she's not a total idiot, thanks.

Arthurs hmms. It occurs to Ariadne that Arthur probably knows Smith's real name, shoe size, favorite food and current address. "You say yes yet?"

"I said I'd think about it," Ariadne says. She'd been toying with the idea of calling someone - Arthur, maybe, or Eames. Eames seemed less likely to give her a hard time about it; Arthur seemed more likely to have the full dossier and also perhaps a firmer grasp of what is an acceptable level of moral flexibility and what crosses from 'illegal' into 'criminal'. "Why? What's it to you?"

Arthur hmms again. "Eames and me got a job in Manila. Team could use a good architect."

"Pity. If you were looking for an amazing one, I might have been interested," Ariadne says. "But hey, say hi to Eames for me."

Two days later, she opens the door to her apartment to find Eames standing there, looking like he's spent at least three hours finding a shirt in the perfect shade of green to horrifyingly clash with his pants and jacket. He's brought flowers, though, and he's smiling, like he's delighted to be here and see her.

"Ariadne! So nice to see you again. Honestly, it's been too long."

Ariadne accepts the flowers. "Did Arthur send you?"

"Arthur? Never heard of him," Eames declares, walking around her apartment like he's casing it. "Is he handsome? Dull? Your boyfriend? None of the above?"

"Some of the above," Ariadne says. "If this is about the Smith job, I turned it down."

Eames beams at her. "Excellent. Well-done. You're free then, yes? It just so happens I've got this job in Manila needing an amazing, bloody brilliant architect and naturally, I thought of you."

("So which was it?" Eames asks her on the plane to Manila. "Handsome, dull or your boyfriend?")

("You first," Ariadne counters, which has Eames grinning at her again, like they're sharing a secret, and friends, rather than two people who haven't spoken for one month, three weeks and five days.)

The job in Manila leads to a job in Bangkok and then another one in San Francisco.

Ariadne's not sure how they end up in some gambling den, or even which city they're in (she checks her totem; its weight is reassuring in her hand) only that one moment, she and Arthur are watching Eames cheat at cards (not that anyone's said so in as many words) and the next -

"Quick, give me a kiss," Eames says, and Ariadne wants to ask, 'who?' but Arthur's already moving, pulling Eames out of his chair and pressing him up against the wall like they've rehearsed this, or done this before, anyway.

She realizes she's staring, stops, then resumes because, well, they're clearly putting on a show, so she might as well enjoy it.

One of Eames's fellow card-players-slash-victims whistles; another one calls something in maybe Russian.

"All gone?" Eames asks, stepping back and adjusting his collar in a gesture that's 100% Arthur.

Arthur sniffs. "Bunch of amateurs."

"What," Ariadne says.

Arthur sits down again next to her, as Eames picks up his cards and resumes playing.

"You do this kind of thing often?" Ariadne asks. She and Eames and Arthur have all gotten adjacent but separate hotel rooms. It made sense at the time.

It still makes sense now, though Ariadne wonders if Eames and Arthur are actually spending the night in their own rooms, rather than together.

"What, gambling? Only whenever I've got the money, or need a bit of quick cash," Eames says.

"That means 'yes'," Arthur says.

"Well, it's money, isn't it?" Eames shrugs. "We all have our ways. Mine simply happen to involve a bit of fun."

"And people with guns coming to look for you," Arthur says.

"Stupid, unobservant people with guns," Eames corrects. "So sorry if you were inconvenienced. Would you like to order something from roomservice to get over it? Please feel free: my treat."

"No thanks," Arthur says, and somehow, that's the end of it.

Except for the part where it happens two more times over the span of three months.

Both times it's Eames; both times Arthur's the one to respond, to hide Eames's face and most of his body from whoever's looking for him, and both times Ariadne's there, watching and wondering if maybe next time, she should be the one doing something, if Eames doesn't look at either of them because he knows Arthur will be the one to come for him, or because he doesn't care who of them does the kissing so long as one of them does.

She'd like to think that she'd notice something if there was any kissing going on between them in private, but Arthur's very good at being inscrutable and Eames is exceptionally good at being charming and changing the subject and not giving straight answers to questions he doesn't want to answer, so.

"Quick, give me a kiss," Ariadne says, as much because she wants to see what happens as because she would, in fact, quite like to spice up her social and/or romantic life a little. (Or to have one at all, if she's honest: the life of an amazing architect slash dream thief is rich in excitement but rather poor in lasting personal contacts, other than Arthur and Eames, who are, well, Arthur and Eames.)

It's nine in the morning and they're having jus d'orange and fresh croissants in some small Parisian cafe with an overrated view of the Eiffel tower.

Eames glances up from his newspaper. Arthur doesn't even do that much.

"We're safe. I'm pretty sure no one in this place is even carrying a gun." With the exception of him and Eames, it goes without saying, though Ariadne's not actually sure about Eames.

Eames puts down his newspaper. "Arthur, dear, there's other reasons for kissing someone than people with guns, you know."

"I'm not an idiot," Arthur says, still looking at his newspaper rather than at either of them.

"Well," Eames says, his tone a perfect blend of soothing and cynical.

"Um," Ariadne says.

"It's not that I don't want to, or that Arthur doesn't want to, though I doubt he'd tell you as much himself," Eames says - Arthur keeps quiet, which is a statement in and of itself. "It's just that, well, some places are more accepting of that sort of thing than others, and I happen to know Arthur's quite fond of this one. Friends with the owner, special discount, staff knows how he takes his coffee, stuff like that."

"It's because unlike some people, I tip well," Arthur says. "And I don't drink coffee in France."

"My point is, it's not you, it's Arthur," Eames says.

"It's not me, it's Eames," Arthur says.

"It's both of you," Ariadne says. "But for whatever reason, I don't care, I like you anyway, and I'd like to try being more than friends. Friends with benefits? Friends who kiss? Something like that. If that's something you're both interested in, too."

"We are," Eames says. "Or, well, I am. I can't speak for Arthur, except that I can, because Arthur's really very easy to read once you get the hang of it. I'll teach you. It'll be fun."

"Cool," Ariadne says.

"I'll teach you how to see when Eames is cheating at cards," Arthur says.

Eames rolls his eyes, looking put upon, and Ariadne laughs.

A mere one week later, inevitably, she and Arthur collide while going for Eames.

Ariadne drags Arthur down on the table, while Eames ducks under it (though she doesn't notice at the time, and only finds out later, after five minutes of Eames complaining they ruined the game).

"We're going to need some ground rules," Arthur says later, when they're back at the hotel.

Ariadne remembers how it felt to bury her hands in the fabric of his suit, the moment he realized what she was doing and how he could help instead of hinder. "Why?"

Arthur makes a 'go on, tell her' gesture at Eames, who scowls.

"Don't look at me, I'm with her. Apart from the bit where, all right, maybe one or two ground rules. You know, to keep me from getting killed next time. That's fair, isn't it? Everyone here wants me to stay alive, don't they?"

"You could try pissing off fewer people to the point where they want to kill you," Arthur says.

"We'll call that Plan B, shall we?"


End file.
